


Say When

by seratonation



Series: We'll fall until we're free [4]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Community: hc_bingo, Hands, M/M, Major Illness, Nerve Tissue Damage, Other, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Technology, mentions of torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-15
Updated: 2013-11-15
Packaged: 2018-01-01 15:38:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1045626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seratonation/pseuds/seratonation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Bruce gently took Tony’s hand and examined it closely. He pressed into a spot on Tony’s palm and watched Tony suck in a breath. He pressed into another point, closer to the base of his fingers and this time Tony flinched. </i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Say When

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the song with the same name by The Fray.
> 
> For the Hurt/Comfort prompt: [Major Illness](http://themadwritings.livejournal.com/51369.html)

“Sit,” Bruce ordered.

“I don’t need you to look at it,” Tony said, sitting down on the medical bed anyway, “I’m fine.”

Bruce gently took Tony’s hand and examined it closely. He pressed into a spot on Tony’s palm and watched Tony suck in a breath. He pressed into another point, closer to the base of his fingers and this time Tony flinched. 

“Tony?” he asked. 

“It's okay,” Tony replied, his voice tight, “keep going.”

“No, it's not!” Bruce burst out, “you need to tell me when it hurts, how am I supposed to help you otherwise?”

He pressed into that point again and Tony gasped. “It hurts,” he said and took another breath, pulling his hand away, “it hurts everywhere.” He tried to get up, “it's fine, I’ll manage.”

“Don't you dare,” Bruce threatened, putting a hand on Tony’s chest and forcing him to sit down again, “you can barely function without painkillers and you can't be on those forever if I can help fix it.”

“I installed the hardware,” Tony said in a rush, “you can’t fix it because it's already ingrained, my body will adjust soon.”

“You're an idiot,” Bruce said, without any of the usual affection he applies to that word.

“Because I helped myself?” 

“Because I’m right here, I could have helped you implement it.”

“I don’t need your help-” 

“Bullshit.”

Tony stopped at that. Bruce hardly ever swore. They stared each other down, daring the other to blink, when the door opened and interrupted the moment. “Hey guys I found this thing in one of the gardens-” Clint stopped in his tracks and looked between them, “sorry, I’ll come back.” He started to back out again, his feet socked shuffling on the tiles. 

“No,” Bruce stopped him, “we’re done here.” With a last hard look at Tony, he pushed away and walked over to Clint, leading him out. “What did you find?”

Tony watched them leave and turned back to his hand, slowly flexing it into a fist and then releasing it. It still hurt, but the technology is sound. It’s going to start healing any day now. It will get better. It had to. 

***

“You sure you’re allowed to be drinking?” 

Tony looked up to see Clint walking into the lab and closing the door behind him. “PTSD is a bitch,” he said into his glass. 

“I don't think it’d help the withdrawal either.”

“Oh that’s over, Bruce checked,” he said, “torture drug free since three days ago.”

“So you decided to re-dose?” Clint asked, raising an eyebrow.

“This?” he said, holding up his glass, “it’s nothing. In fact, join me.”

“I’m more of a beer person myself.”

“A man of simple taste,” Tony said, raising his eyebrows. 

“You could say that,” Clint said, but he was closer now.

“Sit,” Tony insisted, gesturing at an empty seat in front of him, before realising it was the one Bruce was sitting in this morning. 

“I just came to see if you wanted something to eat,” Clint said, stolidly refusing to move, his feet rooted to the spot, “you’ve been here all day.”

“Bruce brought me some dinner,” he said, “he can’t let me die while we’re angry at each other.”

“That’s- weirdly sweet,” Clint said.

“Yeah,” he said, smiling fondly, “big guy’s a bit soft.”

“So why are you fighting?” 

Tony rolled his eyes. “That’s none of your business,” he said, “and we’re not fighting, we just have different opinions.”

“Right,” Clint said, waving a hand dismissively, “you’re right, it’s none of my business, I’m heading to bed.”

“I think I will too,” Tony said, “there’s no work going on here.”

He got up too fast and felt himself fall forward as the room spun around him. He put his hands out and grabbed onto the nearest thing to catch himself. 

He realised, too late, that what he’d grabbed onto was Clint. He tried to pull away but his legs still didn't seem to want to cooperate and Clint’s hold was steady. 

“You alright?” Clint asked, ducking his head to meet his eyes.

“The technology is sound,” he said, trying not to let the pain show, easing his grip but not letting go, “it just needs time.”

“Are you telling me you’re a robot?” Clint said blandly.

“No,” he said, “before I- before we were taken, I was working on internal prosthetics, to replace damaged organs, while I was there, the way they- the way that I was tied up, I lost feeling in my extremities, the technology is sound, I can do this.”

Clint was quiet for a long time. “Sounds like a robot to me,” he said, “You essentially replaced your nerves with wiring.”

Tony looked up at him in surprise. “Essentially,” he said, finally pushing away from Clint, “I can do this, They’re still trying to calibrate themselves to normal, I just need to train the damn things to listen to the neural triggers.”

“You should really let Bruce help you with that,” Clint said, letting his hands hover, “isn’t he a biologist or something, aren’t triggers his thing?”

Tony raised an eyebrow at him. 

“None of my business, right,” he said, dropping his hands, “time for bed.”

He watched Clint leave and then slowly made his way to his own room. He silently slid under the covers and tried to relax. 

Bruce rolled over to face him, only one eye open. “Tony?” 

“Yeah.” 

Bruce, threw an arm over him and after some shifting, They ended up with Bruce pressed to Tony’s back, his hand resting over the arc reactor and his nose at the base of Tony’s spine. 

“I just,” Bruce sighed, “I want to help.” 

“Shh, I know,” he said, putting a hand over Bruce’s arm, “I know.”


End file.
